


i'm weak (and what's wrong with that?)

by zephryus



Series: dsmp!dnf [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, Light Angst, Love, M/M, dream has one (1) weakness and its george, pre dream smp doomsday war, the like. king!george knight!dream stuff, this takes place in the smp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephryus/pseuds/zephryus
Summary: The night before Doomsday, Dream asks George to fight with him, and thinks about what it means to love someone as much as he does.(or, they're in bed together, and Dream wonders if George knows just how much power he has over him. Dream would burn down the world if George wanted him to, and it scares him far less than it should)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: dsmp!dnf [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184144
Comments: 31
Kudos: 327





	i'm weak (and what's wrong with that?)

**Author's Note:**

> on this episode of dream simps for george: knight/god!dream + his bf king(ish)!george (the title is from weak by ajr (thematically... not quite there but the line fits lmao))

“Doomsday is tomorrow,” Dream says, apropos of nothing in particular. George just hums in response, lazily rolling over onto his front so he’s practically on top of Dream, limbs sprawled over him, careless. Together, they’re warm, borderline stifling, wrapped up in each other, pretending that the tensions outside don’t exist.

“Fight with me?” Dream asks, like he always does, even though he knows he’s going to get the same answer as he always does. One of his hands finds its way into George’s hair, he gently traces shapes into the back of his head, the backs of his fingernails scraping against his scalp. George makes a noise of contentment and presses a kiss to Dream’s chest, just to the side of a thick scar.

George ignores the question.

“How long is it going to take?” George murmurs instead, entertaining himself by drawing over the scars littering Dream’s body with the tips of his fingertips. They’re long-since healed, memories and gifts from another time, but George’s fingertips, soft and warm and small, so unlike his own, make them feel like they’re just healing, raw and red.

“Not long,” Dream reassures him, stroking his hand down his back, letting his palm bump over the ridges of his spine, lets his fingers, thick and calloused, spread over his smooth, pale back. George has exactly one scar from where Techno assassinated him, just at the base of his throat. It fills Dream with rage every single time he sees it – how dare he kill the man he loves; how dare he even think that he could lay a hand on him.

George sees the way his eyes darken, the way his hands on him slow down a little. They can’t communicate telepathically, despite all of Dream’s power and influence, but George murmurs sweet reassurances to him, presses soft kisses to wherever he can reach until the darkness fades away and his face relaxes.

“You want me to fight with you, but you can’t stand to see me hurt?” George’s intonation lilts up at the end, even though both of them know it’s not a question.

“I want you next to me, even when I shouldn’t,” Dream admits, barely above a whisper, his words slipping out of his mouth, stumbling over chapped lips to hang between them, still in the night air.

“You have me,” George tells him, louder than Dream, but still at the lowest limits of his voice. He speaks like he doesn’t particularly care about who hears him. “You always have.”

Dream wants to ask if he has him tomorrow again, it’s in his nature to push and pull and change the circumstances until he gets what he wants – with anyone else he wouldn’t even question it, he wouldn’t even entertain making a safe place away from the action for them, but with George… he can’t even pretend he doesn’t have him wrapped around his little finger.

It should scare him, fuck, it should terrify him. George could ask him to burn down the world and build a new one and he would, without even taking a moment to think it over, without taking the time to ask or consult anyone else he would light a single match and let it all go.

“I know,” Dream says, like a confession, ducking his head a little to kiss him. George moves up after a second, so they’re both more comfortable. In the dark, just barely illuminated by the reflection of the sun from the moon and the light from a couple torches outside, everything between them becomes simultaneously clearer, and murkier. George has Dream hanging from marionette strings, the slightest tilt of the crossbar has him spinning, a domino effect on the rest of the server.

He wonders, if it’s as obvious to the rest of them, to all of his faction, to L’Manberg, as it is to him. He’d always known that he would burn down the world for George – he wonders if everyone else had caught on. He wonders if George knows.

It’s dangerous, he realises as he lays there, softly touching him, accepting gentle and tender kisses, loving the man in his arms, the man whose hands are soft and unblemished, who’d rather quietly build a house instead of defending his country. Dream’s love for him makes him powerful, and power makes him dangerous.

For all that the SMP is intimidated by him, no matter how much they’ll claim that they’re not, he wonders if they know that it’s George, actually, who they should be scared of.

“You have me too,” Dream says, pressing the words against George’s hairline, “for as long as you want.”

“I know,” George says like Dream told him the sky was blue and the grass was green, a small smile plays on his plush, pink lips. Dream wants to kiss him, feel his soft lips move against his, in the lazy, apathetic way George kisses when he’s tired, when all he wants to do is lay there and accept what Dream will give him. So he does, taking the smile easily, brushing his hands down his torso, palms smooth over his skin, gentle and sure.

Loving George reminds him he’s not a monster, despite what Tommy claims, he reminds him that, as long as he loves him, and as long as he’s loved, he’s human. He reminds him that he can be gentle and reassuring, that his hands, currently skating over the planes of George’s narrow shoulders, just to touch him, were made for more than violence and destruction.

“I love you,” Dream says, breaking away from his lips to make a constellation with his kisses against George’s neck. If he wanted, he would push the stars in the sky to make a real constellation for him. George closes his eyes, lets out a sigh when Dream kisses a bruise just under his jaw he’d left earlier. He lets him roll them over, so George is on his back on the bed, and Dream is leaning over him, pressing him into the mattress, in control.

Under him, George is at his mercy – the one person who makes him weak, his one true flaw. Fleetingly, the thought of killing him rushes into his mind, and not for the first time. Without him he wouldn’t have a weakness, he wouldn’t be so easily emotionally manipulated, but he would have this, he wouldn’t have softness he’s not sure he deserves, he wouldn’t have his secret smiles. He wouldn’t have love. He dismisses the thought just as fast as it came.

“Kiss me?” George asks, looking up at him. In the dark he’s beautiful, and Dream is helpless to do anything but oblige him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading <3


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